A Web of Tree Roots
At the end of June, the weatherman had predicted a dryer and warmer than usual July. Without having yet talked to him to see what has become of his prediction, I’ll wager a bet that it was wrong. It’s rained, a lot. Just a couple days ago, the National Weather Service tweeted out that they’d broken a daily record for precipitation. It was just a daily record, but I wouldn’t be surprised if, later this week, a monthly record will be broken as well.
It hasn’t been the wonderfully warm dry summer we had last summer, but it hasn’t bothered me much. When Scott and I moved back to the Southeast rainforest of Alaska, we expected the grey and rain. Last summer made it seem as if we had moved somewhere else. We haven’t let the summer’s rainy weekends stop us from hiking just as much as we did last year. Without a boat, that’s what we do. We hike, and my body thanks me for it. Scott drags me to high vantage points, walking up rocky paths that, with all this rain, are flowing streams. On the way down, my hands are wet and muddy from being too cautious, grabbing a hold of trees or the ground or anything I can reach for balance.
With Scott gone this weekend, Lota and I walked to the John Muir Cabin, which is really a pleasant, well maintained trail. Though there is a gradual incline throughout the way to the cabin, it’s relatively, compared to the hikes we normally do, flat. We saw people in the beginning of the walk and another group when we got to the cabin, but for the rest of the few hours, we were alone, and that’s how I prefer it. In Wrangell, it’d be a pleasant surprise to see someone else hiking on the same trail you were. In Juneau, trailhead parking lots fill to capacity. Sometimes we’ll pass at least 20 others doing the same thing we are.
But yesterday, in the steady drizzle of Southeast rain, Lota and I had the boarded trail mostly to ourselves. Like the rocky pathways, the boardwalks had become steady waterfalls, flowing from one board down to the next. Magically, the board themselves were not slippery! The trail takes you from forest to open muskeg to forest again, back to muskeg. When the boards disappear, the ground can become a web of tree roots crisscrossing each other, with deep pools of mud in between, and I congratulated myself for wearing rubber boots instead of hiking shoes. With the rain, the bugs stayed away, which was a blessing.
When we got to the cabin, I spent some time sitting on a bench on the deck, eating some snacks, and throwing a stick, but not nearly enough for Lota’s liking. Before we started back down the trail, I spent about ten minutes picking blueberries. I gave several to Lota, who eagerly eats them from my hand but hasn’t yet learned the art of picking them off the bush himself, as Cyrus had. (The cup or so of blueberries are in the fridge right now, awaiting their fate into waffles!)
It was a walk to get my body moving, to try and rid it of a long week’s worth of sitting in front of a computer screen. It was a walk to try and get some positive constructive thoughts flowing after a night of lamenting my new work environment (same job, much much much smaller work space). It was a walk to enjoy being with Lota, watch him frolic in the muskeg (he really does frolic) or jump after a stick in a deep muskeg pool or get well ahead of me on the trail and then, ever so dependently, turn and wait to make sure I’m behind him. It was a walk to love being in Southeast on a rainy July weekend.
It hasn’t been the wonderfully warm dry summer we had last summer, but it hasn’t bothered me much. When Scott and I moved back to the Southeast rainforest of Alaska, we expected the grey and rain. Last summer made it seem as if we had moved somewhere else. We haven’t let the summer’s rainy weekends stop us from hiking just as much as we did last year. Without a boat, that’s what we do. We hike, and my body thanks me for it. Scott drags me to high vantage points, walking up rocky paths that, with all this rain, are flowing streams. On the way down, my hands are wet and muddy from being too cautious, grabbing a hold of trees or the ground or anything I can reach for balance.
With Scott gone this weekend, Lota and I walked to the John Muir Cabin, which is really a pleasant, well maintained trail. Though there is a gradual incline throughout the way to the cabin, it’s relatively, compared to the hikes we normally do, flat. We saw people in the beginning of the walk and another group when we got to the cabin, but for the rest of the few hours, we were alone, and that’s how I prefer it. In Wrangell, it’d be a pleasant surprise to see someone else hiking on the same trail you were. In Juneau, trailhead parking lots fill to capacity. Sometimes we’ll pass at least 20 others doing the same thing we are.
But yesterday, in the steady drizzle of Southeast rain, Lota and I had the boarded trail mostly to ourselves. Like the rocky pathways, the boardwalks had become steady waterfalls, flowing from one board down to the next. Magically, the board themselves were not slippery! The trail takes you from forest to open muskeg to forest again, back to muskeg. When the boards disappear, the ground can become a web of tree roots crisscrossing each other, with deep pools of mud in between, and I congratulated myself for wearing rubber boots instead of hiking shoes. With the rain, the bugs stayed away, which was a blessing.
When we got to the cabin, I spent some time sitting on a bench on the deck, eating some snacks, and throwing a stick, but not nearly enough for Lota’s liking. Before we started back down the trail, I spent about ten minutes picking blueberries. I gave several to Lota, who eagerly eats them from my hand but hasn’t yet learned the art of picking them off the bush himself, as Cyrus had. (The cup or so of blueberries are in the fridge right now, awaiting their fate into waffles!)
It was a walk to get my body moving, to try and rid it of a long week’s worth of sitting in front of a computer screen. It was a walk to try and get some positive constructive thoughts flowing after a night of lamenting my new work environment (same job, much much much smaller work space). It was a walk to enjoy being with Lota, watch him frolic in the muskeg (he really does frolic) or jump after a stick in a deep muskeg pool or get well ahead of me on the trail and then, ever so dependently, turn and wait to make sure I’m behind him. It was a walk to love being in Southeast on a rainy July weekend.
posted by Siapiau | 8:57 AM
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